


Three

by WildAndFreeHearts



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: M/M, Multi, POV Third Person, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2015-04-19
Packaged: 2018-03-24 16:19:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3775252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildAndFreeHearts/pseuds/WildAndFreeHearts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of how they become three.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Alistair

**Author's Note:**

  * For [heeroluva](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heeroluva/gifts).



The first time that Zevran and Surana had started making out in the middle of the camp Alistair had almost choked to death on his soup – something that the assassin had apparently found infinitely amusing. Surana had only blushed and ducked his head with a coy smile, and Alistair had scoffed at him, before wondering if he looked anything like a disapproving Chantry Sister scolding boisterous children. From the chuckles the rest of the group kept stifling as they glanced his way for the next few days of their travels, he probably had.

It hadn’t been that Alistair was unaware that the two elves were a couple, (anyone with ears could have told you that – thin tents didn’t block much sound, which was just another thing that left Alistair feeling deeply uncomfortable) but he had thought that perhaps they would be a bit more private about it. Then again, in hindsight that had no doubt been a very silly thing to think. They were both adults, as were everyone else in their band of allies – it wasn’t like anything they were doing was taboo, beyond perhaps the fact that their relationship was one held between two men,… which really it wasn’t because, they were _elves_. Lovely, willowy, smooth skinned elves, with huge, expressive eyes. Which somehow made Alistair both less and more uneasy about the whole matter. But surely Alistair was just behaving sheltered. At least that’s desperately what he wanted to blame the twisty, fluttering feeling in his belly on anytime he watched the both of them walking together, giving each other those obviously-supposed-to-be-secret smiles.


	2. Surana

Surana was a Bad Mage – he had been told so by many a Templar before. And although while when he was a child being called such a thing had made him want to cry, the words had simply began to roll off his back as he grew older. Now, as a full grown adult if someone else had used the term deride him he probably would have laughed in their face. However, now he knew deep within himself, with a sinking dread that it was actually true. In fact, he wasn’t just a Bad Mage… he was a Bad Person.  
  
Because he had the most beautiful and perfect lover anyone could ever hope for… and he still wasn’t satisfied. Zevran should have been more than enough for him – he was a flawless combination of brash and smooth, of sound and silence, of cunning and kind. …So why did Surana still want to know what Alistair’s lips tasted like, or what it would feel like to have those gauntlet-clad hands pull his hair, just so?

He could only pray that Zevran wouldn’t somehow figure out the thoughts he was having, the thought he was trying desperately to bury and never have again. He didn’t want to ever hurt him, and he was sure that knowledge of such infidelity would definitely bring Zevran great pain. Of course _Zevran_ flirted with other people, but it was always a _joke_. But this thing Surana felt every time Alistair smiled at him? That was all too damnably real.


	3. Zevran

One thing Zevran had learned as a Crow was that people could always be counted on to be very easily manipulated by their own feelings. Another thing he had been taught was how to spot those weaknesses when they presented themselves. However he had never expected to have to recognize them in himself – first when he had allowed himself to be truly wooed by a certain infamous Mage Warden (which a small part of him still internally railed about), and then again when he noticed said Mage Warden sharing puppy-eyed stares with the equally infamous Bastard Prince Templar Warden.

Thoughts of all the ways he could be silently killing Alistair had kept him amused for a while, however the novelty of that wore off rather quickly; Zevran was not a jealous man by nature. And surely it was obvious that Zevran and Surana were together. So for such a high-strung, chantry fearing Templar like Alistair that would probably be enough of a deterrent, what with his honor or some equally ridiculous notions holding the poor fool back. Well, that and probably fear for his own life – Zevran wasn’t called an assassin for nothing. Besides it wasn’t like he could blame them for their looking; they were both very fine specimens of the male form - it was only natural for curiosity to occur. Anyway, Zevran was pretty sure that it would all blow over. 

But the longer he waited for that to happen, the more he realized that it apparently wasn’t going to. And the more he found that he was less irritated by it and actually somewhat intrigued. And that’s when he had an absolutely fantastic idea.


	4. Three

It probably should have been hard to do, but somehow it just wasn’t. Not much actually had to change in the long run, so that had probably made the difference more gradual and simpler.

Giving kisses was more complicated though. But a whole lot more interesting. In fact, most things were more interesting after they came together – it was like everything was just a little enhanced, just a little _more._

Not that that was necessarily always a good thing. Now each one of them worried twice as much about death and dying, which was already pretty bad, what with The Blight breathing down their necks. But they had also had twice the caring, twice the compassion. It wasn’t a feeling any of them were sure that they would ever get used to.

None of them ever said ‘I love you’ or anything equally so crass while the world was still falling to pieces around them (the one time Alistair had tried they had both slapped their hands over his mouth, and he had stared at them guiltily for weeks afterwards) but it didn’t mean they didn’t _feel_ it.

And it was an odd feeling, but it was good too. So very good.

A similar feeling came later with the ending of The Blight. Much shuffling and mumbling was done for a while afterwards, but eventually the two Wardens convinced the assassin to follow them to their Keep so that they could continue to stay together – for what they hoped would be forever.


End file.
